Hey everyone! I have a favor to ask of you guys. I’m trying to win a contest for a DJ slot for Whiteout 12 in Seattle, it’s been one of my favorite parties for years. I’ve been working really hard on my mixing to get to where I am now, and I think I’m more than ready to play an event for the people! If you wouldn’t mind checking out my mix on the Whiteout page, in the “pinned” post regarding the DJ Mix contest, I would REALLY appreciate it! If you like it, “like” my comment so I can have a chance to win, then reblog this post!!! Thank you very much!     (Rory Masterson)
https://www.facebook.com/events/424795944317715/

If you know me in real life and follow me on tumblr, I am trusting you to never give my URL to anyone, ever. <3 

I know begging on the internet is gross, but we’re desperate. My mother died, and we’ve got to find some way to help pay her final expenses, and take care of her cats that she loved so much. if you can help out in any way please let me know.

http://www.gofundme.com/d6t2ls

So I know I’m probably going to lose followers over this, but this is a very personal post.

On February 24th, I went out for a walk and fell down a flight of stairs, injuring my back very severely on the way down. I was unconscious for at least 20 minutes, but when I woke up, I tried to stand up and found that I could not move my legs. I pulled out my cell phone, called 911 and was taken to a nearby hospital, St. Claire’s.

When I got there, I had a full trauma team around me. This was an extremely serious thing that they needed to deal with ASAP, and when the doctor came in, he asked me a few questions and then asked me to move my legs. When I couldn’t, he started yelling at me telling me to “stop faking” and asked me if I knew how serious it was.

I did, obviously, because I had no feeling in my lower body, and couldn’t move anything below my waist. He then started screaming at me, telling me to stop faking or he would cut off all my clothes and put me out in the ER waiting room with my hands strapped down to see how fast I would move my legs to cover myself up. The nurses. (yes, the NURSES) told him he needed to leave, and he did.

That’s when I got a phone call from my (at the time) roommate complaining about there not being enough money on my food stamp card for him to buy food for the house. That was the least of my worries at the time, so I told him what was going on with me, and he kept going on about the food. I needed to be done and hung up the phone.

Now, I’m a big person. But I’m not insanely obese. I heard the doctor talking very loudly outside my room to someone telling them “I am not putting his fat ass on out CT machine, it has a weight limit of 500 pounds, and it’s to expensive to risk breaking it for someone who’s faking an injury.” I don’t weigh 500 pounds. Not close to it. 

Instead, they were to transfer me to another hospital, Tacoma General. When I got there, they ran CT scans and MRI scans and found that when I fell I had crushed some of the veins that feed into the spinal cord. That is VERY serious, and they started treatment immediately.

About four days later, while in the hospital, I get a text (not even a phone call) from my now ex-roommate telling me I needed to find a new place to live. The heartless son of a bitch kicked me out while I was in the intensive care unit and they didn’t know then if I was going to have major surgery (thankfully, I was able to avoid that.) and tried to defend his actions saying I needed to be with people who I would “accept as a source of moral support” since apparently, he thought he was good at providing moral support, even though he didn’t call one time to check on me to see if I was alright.

I was transferred a couple days later to a rehabilitation center, where I have been since then, and will be for several more weeks. I am in a wheelchair and barely have any use of my legs. Almost no feeling below the waist, and nowhere to go. They are rushing my disability application through, and trying to find an adult family living center where I can transition from being in the hospital to being in a more “home” like environment. And from there, eventually, into my own place.

At first, I was angry with this person who welcomed me into their home, whom I thought was a good friend, but turned out to be nothing more than an addict, ignoring his own children and job hunting to play video games instead. I mean, he wouldn’t even clean the cat litter box until the entire apartment stunk of feces and urine. But now I am happy. Because I don’t have to return to that horrible situation. I get to move on, and be rid of that sort of negativity. I never have to deal with it again. 

This injury has changed my life drastically. I have to relearn how to do my day to day tasks from a wheelchair, and that has been difficult. But I am learning more and more every day and I know that eventually I will be able to be independent, regardless of if I ever walk again. And I am okay with that.

I hate when people judge others for breastfeeding in public.

I can raise my puppy however the hell I want.